Every summer, Wen gives us Scotties a beach ball to play with. After a few minutes of raucous fun, we always pop it from biting at it. It’s tremendous fun while we’re chasing the ball around, but once it’s popped and deflated, not so much. We professional beach ball poppers know how to attack a beach ball and not only kill it, but kill our fun too.
This year, Wen gave us a different kind of beach ball: a tightly stuffed beach ball dog toy with a rope attached. It was super fun to play with too, until I got a hold of it and Riley the Ripper ripped a seam open and stuffing fell out all over. Not only am I a professional popper, but a ripper too and once again, our beach ball fun came to a screeching halt.
